#wot fanfiction

[tough-n-dumb]

summary:

The woman before her looks like Moiraine. She sounds like Moiraine. The curve of her cheek beneath Siuan’s palm feels like Moiraine; that soft, almost porcelain skin she dreams of kissing nightly. But though Siuan doesn’t want to admit it—can’t admit it—there is a wrongness to her.

-

Or, Moiraine and Siuan in Cairhien. Missing/extended scene from s2e7, Daes Dae'mar.

Read on AO3

[butterflydm]

Chapters: 7/15 Fandom: The Wheel of Time (TV), Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rand al'Thor/Mat Cauthon, Rand al'Thor/Aviendha/Mat Cauthon/Elayne Trakand Characters: Rand al'Thor, Mat Cauthon, Nynaeve al'Meara, Moiraine Damodred, Verin Mathwin Additional Tags: spoilers through book 9: winter’s heart, for the majority of the fic, spoilers through book 12: the gathering storm, for one major spoiler, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fate swap, Perrin blew the Horn of Valere AU, mat defended the two rivers AU, Mat is Rand's Warder AU, minor siuan/moiraine, minor lan/nynaeve, birgitte is nynaeve's warder AU, rand is a dreamer AU Series: Part 15 of voice in the back of my head Summary: Rand and his companions organize to deal with the Seanchan on the West Coast, the Dark One's touch on the weather, and the corruption that taints the One Power -- hoping to strike before the Shadow's forces can learn their plans.

It was exhilarating to watch a ta’veren at work.

Moiraine kept her face still, vaguely aware of the gentle swaying of the Sea Folk raker, but most of her attention was focused on Rand as he spoke with Harine din Togara Two Winds, a Wavemistress of the Atha’an Miere, and the woman who had been chosen by her people to bargain with Rand.

She got the feeling that Rand didn’t much enjoy the feeling of being shipboard — she didn’t blame him, as she’d always preferred riding herself — but he was doing a good job keeping himself steady and attentive to Harine. He had learned a great deal over the last few months and had come a long away from the young man she’d met in the Two Rivers.

Several times so far in the conversation, Harine had said things that she’d clearly regretted letting slip out, a habit common around ta’veren. Moiraine had suffered from it a time or two herself.

[demonscantgothere]

Feint. Moiraine Damodred/Lan Mandragoran. T-rated. 1,807 words [1/1] This is only a short little thing, but I may write more. Dipping my toes into the water!

After the defeat of Ishamael, Lan realizes Moiraine needs to rely on more than just the One Power to guide her. Rand may have removed the knot, but another Forsaken may put a second one in place one day, and if that day comes, Moiraine must be ready.

Lan’s eyes trail down the length of the staff, his gaze catching on the cuts and dents and imperfections hammered into the wood—beaten into it with a fine precision of blood, sweat, and tears—his fingers enclosing one by one in a slow dance around the rough cord wrap of the handle in the center. His wrist twirls the staff through the air in a steady circle that hums with each spin, his eyes peering through the wheel it creates between them—meeting Moiraine’s eyes on the other side, her gaze narrowing in on him with a honing precision she reserves for her channeling.

There’s no channeling here tonight.

The One Power be banned, Lan insisted on it. No, there was no One Power here tonight—only man power. Only hands and fists. Only feet and knees. Only elbows and chins.

Only blood and sweat.

Lan’s eyes trail down the length of the staff, his gaze catching on the cuts and dents and imperfections hammered into the wood—beaten into it with a fine precision of blood, sweat, and tears—his fingers enclosing one by one in a slow dance around the rough cord wrap of the handle in the center. His wrist twirls the staff through the air in a steady circle that hums with each spin, his eyes peering through the wheel it creates between them—meeting Moiraine’s eyes on the other side, her gaze narrowing in on him with a honing precision she reserves for her channeling.

There’s no channeling here tonight.

The One Power be banned, Lan insisted on it. No, there was no One Power here tonight—only man power. Only hands and fists. Only feet and knees. Only elbows and chins.

Only blood and sweat.

Moiraine twirls her own staff with less grace than him, attempting to keep her eyes on him while bettering her technique. Physical combat is not her strong suit. She has always relied on the One Power to guide her and protect her. She has always relied on Lan’s sword to guard her.

Her plight with Ishamael’s knot on her taught her the One Power would not always be there to save her. Rand untangled the knot, but now that they know it can be tied—what if it happens again?

“Shoulders up,” Lan instructs her, and Moiraine narrows her eyes further, an indignant glare in his direction through the two wheels the staves are creating in between them—but she raises her shoulders all the same, straightening out her arm and holding her staff at a better angle with more control in the grip. Her fingers clench around the rough-spun rope of the handle.

“I know how to hold myself,” Moiraine taunts back, her voice deep but melodious in reply. Never one shy of confidence, even when she is not quite sure of what she is doing.

The corner of Lan’s mouth quirks up at her, a teasing smirk. “Of course,” he agrees quietly, his voice just as low as hers—and haunting, full of the hunt he finds in the fight.

He lowers his chin. Catches his staff all of a sudden, stilling it, and Moiraine’s eyes flick to the staff first, cutting off of him and losing sight of his bodily movements.

Lan flies in for the first strike, staff raised high—and drops it down too soon, spinning in the air and swinging in the from the side instead—a feint.

His staff collides into Moiraine’s side before she can block his attack. It’s not hard enough to hurt her, but it’s hard enough to shove her away from him. Moiraine stumbles and catches herself quite gracefully in response, spinning around to face him with her staff raised horizontally as a guard between them, both hands on the wood to steady it, her dark hair whirling all around her shoulders as she comes face to face with him.

Bright eyes, a wild thing with injury and determination in the gleam of her gaze. Moiraine spins her staff, her footwork taking her away from him in a dance around the room as she keeps her eyes on him this time.

If there is one thing Moiraine excels at, it’s footwork.

Lan feels himself grinning at her, and that only turns her lips into a thin line of resolve as she tips her head backwards and throws her whole body into it next, whirling around along with her staff—and almost catching him in the back.

Lan blocks her swing with a loud crack of his staff against hers—and shoves her back again, putting his weight into it and knocking Moiraine back.

She catches herself on the heels of her boots and whips her head back, swinging her hair out of her face as she scoffs at him. “Playing dirty, are we?”

Lan tips his head as he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s the only way to play—”

With his staff behind his back, Moiraine almost doesn’t expect it—the way he swings it out of nowhere and hits her square in the chest with it.

Moiraine hisses like animal—shoves back at him, and Lan smirks, but he lets it happen. Lets Moiraine get the upper hand long enough to growl at him with gritted teeth, the tip of her staff sliding off of his and landing against his shoulder. Moiraine shoves with her fist and uses her free hand like she means to raise it, means to channel—

Lan rears back and slams his staff sideways into hers, leaning closely into her face. “We said no channeling,” he murmurs pointedly, raising his eyebrow. He feels the sweat trickle down the corner of his eye, and Moiraine returns the quirk of his eyebrow with her own.

“Oh?” she says heatedly, as if she doesn’t know any better. “Well, maybe I should—”

—Play dirty, Lan hears the thought she never says out loud as Moiraine cracks her forehead straight into his, pounding the thought into him like a hammer to a nail.

He growls at the headbutt, but she’s got better footwork—and Moiraine hooks her ankle around his and trips Lan, angling her staff to shove the corner of it into his shoulder. The equal motions work together to slam him down onto his back against the hard stone below their feet, knocking the wind out of him.

Moiraine moves quickly to untangle her feet from his, but it’s not fast enough. Lan clamps his shins around her ankle before she can pull it free and trips her, too. Moiraine falls to the ground in heap of blue, and Lan jolts upright and crawls over her, gets the upperhand—and they are a tangle of limbs struggling against each other, grips slipping, legs scrambling, and—

Moiraine bursts out laughing. Head tipped back onto the stone, her face wrinkled into pure ecstasy—she laughs like she doesn’t have a care in the whole world, and Lan can’t help himself. He starts laughing, too. Moiraine drops into a straight face out of nowhere and shoves at him, and he, too, immediately stops laughing long enough to tighten his grip and lock her back down, but he almost loses his grip on her as he slips sideways and catches himself.

Moiraine bursts out laughing again, grinning from ear to ear, her dark hair a wild curtain all around the stone beneath her head. With her cheeks flushed pink with exertion, the rest of her face is pale. Suddenly, she heaves in breaths through her open mouth, and Lan finds he has to do the same.

She turns her head to look at him, rolling over onto her hair. “Left, right, feint,” Moiraine heaves at him. “You’re too predictable.”

Lan raises his eyebrows. “It’s an art form,” he heaves out in return, just as winded. “It should be predictable. There are techniques to follow.”

“Left, right, feint—” Moiraine squeals as Lan dives in to tickle her.

“—Shut up,” Lan hisses with a grin, “or I’ll make you regret it—”

“—That’s—not—part—of—the—technique—!”

Another high-pitched squealhits the air, and Moiraine flings herself over onto her stomach, trying to roll away from him, but Lan scoops her into his arms like she weighs nothing—as light as a baby. Tiny little thing in comparison to him, and he doesn’t care how unsanctimonious it is to hold an Aes Sedai in this manner.

He’s her Warder. He can hold her however he likes.

Moiraine glares at him, petulant. “Let me go,” she easily orders.

“No,” Lan says, just as petulant.

“You can’t hold me like this forever,” Moiraine shoots back.

“Says who?”

Her eyes go wide. “Lan, you wouldn’t.”

He cocks one eyebrow at her. “Says who?”

“Lan—”

He throws her over his shoulder, and Moiraine lands there with an oomph. Lan starts striding towards the door of the training room with her thrown over his shoulder, his arm locking her legs down in place against his chest.

“Lan, don’t make me—”

He pauses halfway to the door. “Don’t make you what?”

“Don’t make me—”

“—I think it’s time for a bath,” Lan says all of a sudden, cutting her off, a curious look spreading across his face. “What do you say, Moiraine?” he asks her casually—as if she isn’t dangling over his shoulder halfway down onto his back.

Moiraine pauses in her struggle, seeming to forget all about it. “Hmm, you do make a fine point,” she agrees, all of the fight gone out of her. Lan glances over his shoulder down at her. Moiraine scrunches her nose at him, making a face. “You do smell like a horse,” she teases.

Lan gasps—a mock gasp. There isn’t a drop of offense in him. “And you,” he says right back, “smell like a squirrel.”

Moiraine gasps in return. “How dare you—” She lifts her head, tips her hair back. Her eyes are wide and expectant. “But a very cute squirrel, yes?”

Lan purses his lips, nodding in agreement. “Absolutely,” he says with far too much seriousness in his tone. “A very cute, feral squirrel.”

Moiraine purses her lips right back and turns away from him, reaching out and patting his bottom in return—as if his response has made everything better. “All right, then,” she teases. “Come on, let’s go.”

It is a gesture that would make anyone else raise their eyebrows to see such mannerisms between the two of them, but for them, it is commonplace. They are comfortable enough with each other, and intimate enough with each other as well, that none of these things are out of place for them, and Lan smirks at her reply as he carries her out of the door and down the hall towards the washroom, Moiraine swinging behind him with her chin in her hand as she waves at people with the other while they pass them by.

When they make it to the washroom, Lan has the bright idea to slip Moiraine down into his arms, cradling her for a moment as they smile across at one another—before he chucks her, clothes and all, into the wash tub with a splash of water everywhere.

Moiraine squeals again with her laughter, loud and clear. Now that they are out of the training session, the rule of no channeling no longer applies. Before Lan knows it, Moiraine channels a wave of water into the air—and throws it straight onto him, sending water flying everywhere throughout the washroom.

Water dripping his chin, Lan raises his eyes at her. “This means war,” he says.

Over the rim of the wash tub as she sinks halfway down to hide herself, Moiraine only grins.

[cxsmiicc]

i just wanna read this fic tf you mean i have to write it first

[shaylogic]

Based on comments on my prior fanfic poll

[thatordinaryoddity]

(sad) bondage porn, frens

Summary:

Bound and blindfolded, Moiraine surrenders to Siuan, finding freedom in trust and rediscovering the woman beneath her mask

(based on this fanart)

[wo-mary]

Moje More

Amazing fanfic from my sweet @just1alien 🔥

Fandom: The Wheel of Time Characters: Liandrin Guirale / Female reader Rating: Explicit

[pillowfriends]

wheel of time ficlet: rare

425 words, rated Teen

SUMMARY: Days or weeks after the Last Battle, Moiraine struggles to share a meal with Siuan.

SPOILERS: full series-ish but canon divergent

TRIGGER WARNINGS: PTSD, violence (including violence against and by loved ones)

-

the random word generator combined with my Moiraine & food brainrot strikes again, but this time in a fucked-up way. I needed to write some angst to balance out all the sorority AU fluff. hopefully this is the right level of incoherent - editing was a bitch.

There's blood on her dinner plate.

“Moiraine?”

She needs to move her hands. Needs to pretend better, to bring fork to mouth like a person would. Needs to move – move, burn you, tendons and muscles and bones and everything that builds a living thing, move –

“Are you all right?”

Voice from far away, echoing through bone-white hallways. Siuan’s voice. Siuan who loves her in novice white in a narrow bed, loves her in Accepted stripes studying in candlelight. Siuan who sleeps clinging to Moiraine like a barnacle, almost like she needs Moiraine as desperately as Moiraine needs her. Siuan’s voice, a rope to cling to.

No matter if the rope is real. The Finn may snatch it away again, but for now it’s something to hold. Her palms are hungry, even for falseness. Hungry to rest on something warm and wanting. Even if she’ll be faced with the burn of the rope slipping through her hands –

Her hands. She needs to move them. Needs to put on a show of being human again.

“Yes.” With difficulty, her mouth shapes the word. Mouth, far away, chapped lips, dry tongue. Her hands move, finally, sawing off another piece of steak.

Meat. Blood. Pink. In Cairhien, there was blood at the twitch of a hand. She remembers it, remembers being the victim and the cause. Countless daggers in the heart, countless men and women frothing pink at the mouth from something slipped in the wine. Odorless, colorless, discreet, except on the rare occasions open blood served daes dae'mar better.

Here blood drips from knife to plate, pooling. Violent revelry, celebrated slaughter. How curious. There always used to be more blood, when the knife was in Lan’s hands, when the knife was in Lan’s chest, when she slid the knife across Siuan's throat.

“Moiraine. Love.” Hands tugging at hers – whose hands? What are they doing to her now? She doesn’t have the strength to pull away. “What do you need? Tell me what you need.”

She needs a clear path to the throne. Needs to find the Dragon before the Reds do. Needs Siuan to kiss her in the library before lessons. Needs Siuan to marry her. Needs Lan to make her dinner. Needs Lan to stop hurting her. Needs to wash the blood from her mouth. Needs –

A warm hand on her cheek – oh, oh, Siuan’s hand. Calluses – Siuan’s calluses. Clarity, however brief.

The Last Battle is over. She’s with Siuan. Siuan loves her. It's dinnertime.

“Could –” she forces out. “Could you cook my meat all the way through?”

[asexual-spongebob]

S.I.R.K.E.N : Prologue: Test Tube.

so here’s the prologue for my AU kidfic I’m writing!! :D I’ve been very excited to share it!

Summary:

To most, Vela may seem like the average, typical and mean pre-teen girl. Even if her family is well… a little strange. (And… she’s definitely not a siren and alien hybrid…) (yeah right.)

She’s quite unpopular, and doesn’t really have friends. Well. Other than the long dead spirits she summons occasionally. But, she always treats one kid different. Ghost Wallace, a shy, timid and anxious boy. She just can’t hide a smile from him.

However, out of all of her enemies, she hates one most. Frances "Fran" McKinley. A rude, snobby, bitchy rich girl. She just so happens to be the daughter of Rick and Micki McKinley. Two famous celebrities.

Despite Fran’s recent arrival, her, Vela and Ghost became quick enemies, after Fran figured what Vela really was. A Sirken freak.

Will the three put their differences aside and become friends, or something more? Or will they continue to be bitter enemies?

version w no text under the cut.

[butterflydm]

Chapters: 11/15 Fandom: The Wheel of Time (TV), Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rand al'Thor/Mat Cauthon, Rand al'Thor/Aviendha/Mat Cauthon/Elayne Trakand Additional Tags: spoilers through book 9: winter’s heart, for the majority of the fic, spoilers through book 12: the gathering storm, for one major spoiler, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fate swap, Perrin blew the Horn of Valere AU, mat defended the two rivers AU, Mat is Rand's Warder AU, minor rand al’thor/min farshaw, birgitte is nynaeve's warder AU, rand is a dreamer AU Series: Part 15 of voice in the back of my head

Elayne glanced around the darkened landscape, to the people who would help her with the Bowl of the Winds. Though all the Windfinders who’d been in Tear had been brought to Cairhien by Rand, not all of them were here, only those who could be most useful in a full circle, with the gaps filled by Elayne and several of the Kin who were among the strongest.

They were in a location that Elayne had found in Tel’aran’rhoid — a hollow not too far from Kinslayer’s Dagger. It was well-protected and would limit access by any potential threat. As much as one could in a world where Traveling existed.

 And it was not until they’d arrived at this place that it was revealed to everyone else what the plans were. Elayne pulled the Bowl of the Winds out of the wagon where she'd hidden it and cradled it in her arms as one of the Windfinders, Shalon din Togara, explained to the others what their task was — to use the Bowl to reverse this unnatural heat and bring back the seasons of the world.

[shukakumoodboard]

Oh daaamn! ‘from these bones, untethered’ sounds SO COOL!! Infodump to me as much or as little as you’d ant about it, I am intrigued (ominous)

this one is already partially published! it was my entry for gaalee horrorfest 2022 and is based on the plot of the insidious (2010). i wrote the whole outline on paper in 10 minutes at my desk in the middle of a forest fire (#casual) back when i had a Big Kid Job, but haven’t written anything past the first chapter. horror is my weakest genre and i am a weak baby when it comes to scary movies, but i can tell you i just looked at my outline for the next chapter and

what the hell am i talking about? find out next time on dragonball z

[cxsmiicc]

dead broke and broken hearted - dragons pov

unfinished and i dont plan on finishing it (at least anytime soon im crazy busy) but @hahnspoetry wanted it so here u go bestie

1.1k, goes with the other pov which is buried somewhere on here or on my ao3, direct link to story in title

wlw, lesbian sex, vaginal fingering, false identity, a shoe breaks that def happened, mistress kink sort of, rough sex, grinding (copied these from the other pov so may not be fully accurate)

-

Muscles you didn’t even know you had ached as you trudged back to the inn, feet scarcely leaving the ground and shoulders dropping lower with every step, exhaustion set deep into your bones. The dreary building was hardly anyones dream home, but at least it was warm. And the rent was… negotiable. Passing through the gate with no hassle thanks to the late hour, you sped up somewhat at the sight of a flicker in your window. It was too steady to be coming from one of the handheld lanterns the local looters favoured, yet too faint for someone to be waiting to talk to you. That left one option, and the thought had you slowing back down again, conserving what little energy you had left.

One black leather boot crunched into the gravel harder than it should’ve and you saw the sole peel away from the rest of the shoe, cursing loudly and earning a filthy look from a washerwoman working overtime. If tonight went as hoped, a new pair would be easily obtained. You finally reached the door after what felt like an age of walking, pausing to take a breath before pushing hard on the wood and biting back a grin at the sight awaiting you.

The landlord, or landlady rather, was exquisite. Especially in her current state, so clearly through with the days work yet letting it show rather than taking the minute required to run a brush through her hair. No, she knew what drove you crazy by now and ensured that it was all she showed to you. Ever so slightly unkempt, what remaining clothes she wore crumpled and long dark hair flying madly about her face, she lounged against the stack of pillows on your bed armed with a smirk that loosened your corset ties then and there. Beautiful beyond comprehension.

“You put in for an extra week.”

Reaching down to remove your now broken boots, you let her voice wash over you, accent so different from your own and intoxicating in its allure. Tugging one ankle free, you tipped your head back to ask her, “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Mmmm, shouldn’t be,” she reached up, both stretching and giving you time to think, “Provided you continue being so timely with payments.”

Both feet now free, you tossed the useless shoes aside and made your way to the bed.

“I wouldn’t dream of being late, my lady,” You told her, punctuating the address with a sickening smile, honey laced with cyanide.

“Enough of these games.”

Even while you were a ways away from the bed, some invisible force drove you forward until her lips found yours. Her kiss was violent, explosive, and you needed it more than the air you so sorely missed. Somehow you wound up pressed against the sheets, Selene atop you with her hands desperately working at the many fastenings of your outfit. The kiss finally broke when she dragged your shirt over your head, corset lying underneath you with every pin undone.

“How you do that so fast I will never understand, it takes me years to get in and out of it.”

The smirk was back as she moved onto the lower portion of your dress, made easier by the lack of petticoats.

“I’d be more than happy to assist, but I fear I’d be reluctant to see it put back on.”

Skirts now around your ankles, she could see precisely how much her words affected you and simply groaned at the visible wet patch on your underthings and dragged them off of you. Now that you were bare and at her mercy, she moved to straddle you before pausing and panning her fingertips over your sides, admiring all that was hers. For you were hers, that much was never in doubt. Everything there was about your body, she knew, and every instrument possible of pleasing you she was a maestro of.

Getting restless, you went to grab her hands, beg her to do something, but she caught onto the attempt and pinned you down, leaning over you as she did so, raven hair tickling your chest.

“No. You will wait, and if I decide that you deserve it you shall get something, but not before I am sated. Do you understand?”

Your voice caught in your throat before you managed to get the words out. “Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I understand, nothing for me until you’re satisfied mistress.”

“That’s my girl.”

With that, she began shedding her own clothes, a much faster affair than ridding you of yours, simply pulling her dress over her head and tearing one simple underskirt away. A clever shift of her hips later and her dripping entrance was hovering over your waiting mouth. It seemed she craved you as much as you did her. She said the things she did for a reason after all, and cumming in your mouth appeared to be her raison d’être.

Wasting no time, you wrapped your arms around her thighs and pulled her closer, maintaining the pressure you knew she needed as your tongue began its work. Roughly circling her clit, you focused on the sounds she was making above you and moved accordingly, switching down to let her ride you when the rolling of her hips became too much, delighting in the wicked noises and near fall when you sucked hard. This rhythm continued until she was naught but instinct, rocking against your mouth as she gripped your upper arm desperately, silently signalling her satisfaction even as her cum was still gushing down your cheeks.

Ever so slightly out of breath she asked, “Mmmmm, do you think you deserve your turn?”

Your voice was muffled under her as you replied, “Not up to me.”

“Oh you are good for me aren’t you,” she said as she slid down to press her lips to yours again, moaning at the taste of herself on your tongue as she pushed her own to meet it.

All too soon she was moving on, leaving you breathless and quivering with need as her teeth sunk into the soft juncture of your neck, tongue darting out to soothe the sting even while she did it again and again, creating marks that would surely be seen for weeks. Somehow you never doubted that this was precisely her intention, letting Cairhien know that your body was hers to do with what she wished, when she wished it. Each time she went lower and lower, until she hit your chest and sparks flew behind your eyes as she started there, ruining the delicate skin with her bites yet still you relished it. Her hands darted up to pay attention to your other side while her tongue occupied one nipple, pulling and flicking at your breast until your breathing was just right, as though she were tuning an instrument.

[vinylandcoffeecollection]

A wall of Matty Healy looking babygirl AF.

This is my favourite Matty. Oh shit, this is why I write Gatty isn’t it? It’s not that deep!

[thatordinaryoddity]

In Chapter 19 there is only one bed (again)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59309359/chapters/158883787

(idk why it‘s not linking a proper preview)

Little teaser:

Siuan felt the weight of it all, the unabashed curiosity, the unspoken questions. She fought the urge to scowl, to snap at them to quit gawking and get back to their damn business. But she bit back the sharp words, swallowed the fire in her throat, and focused on what mattered: getting Moiraine settled without drawing more attention than they already had.

[pillowfriends]

wheel of time drabble: september

Moiraine/Siuan, Moiraine & Lan & Siuan

Modern AU, 200 words

From prompt: "September started very badly"

-

September started very badly.

It was uncomfortably hot in Tar Valon. Siuan loved it. Moiraine and Lan glared at her and sweated irritably in front of the box fan.

Siuan’s father called. His disability payments were ending. After harried phone calls, budget spreadsheets, and frustrated tears, she took out another student loan.

The heat and start of term approaching made Lan sluggish, gloomy. He dragged himself out of bed at five am to run. Then five became six. Then seven. Then he stopped getting up until Moiraine threw an ice cube at him and dragged him to the pool.

Moiraine’s father called too. The family missed her – she hadn’t visited in so long – couldn’t she come back for the sponsor dinner her uncle was hosting next month, there were rumors. If you miss me, Moiraine said harshly, why do you only call when you need something? Then – I’ll visit if I can bring my girlfriend.

That killed the conversation fast. She cried for twenty minutes into Siuan’s hair.

Next week will be better, Siuan whispered into the night as Moiraine kissed her forehead, snuggled halfway in Lan’s lap. Part prayer, part demand, all fiery protectiveness and steadfast hope. It will.

[aureutr]

Oh my god I'm just rewriting the scene from Wheel of Time where Nynaeve breaks through her block. That's what this is except it's Star Wars